Page 3

FENELLA

T he Hobbit was packed, and it buzzed with energy. Every table was occupied, with standing room only at the bar.

Fenella spun a Guardian's fountain pen between her fingers, letting the performance build as the crowd leaned in with anticipation. It seemed like every immortal in the village wanted one more reading before she left in less than a week.

"This pen," she announced, holding it up to catch the light, "has a secret."

"Don't they all?" someone called out, earning scattered laughter.

"Oh, but this one is special." Fenella closed her eyes, making a show of concentration, and suddenly she felt it—a genuine flash of emotion from the object. Loneliness. Distance. The image of a smiling, beautiful woman with loving eyes. Not a lover, though, that wasn't the energy she was sensing.

A mother.

Morrison, the Guardian who'd handed her the pen, shifted uncomfortably.

"To your mother," Fenella continued, the real impression blending seamlessly with her performance. "You write every week, telling her about your life here, but you leave out all the exciting parts because you don't want her to worry."

Morrison's jaw dropped. "That's exactly—how could you possibly?—"

"But here's the thing." Fenella rode the wave of genuine psychometry while adding her theatrical flair.

"The pen is getting frustrated. It wants to write the truth.

It's tired of editing out all the exciting bits.

'Dear Mother,'" she affected a deep voice, supposedly the pen's, "'Today I fought three Doomers before breakfast. You should have seen me, Ma. I was magnificent.'"

The crowd roared with laughter, but Morrison's eyes had gone soft. "I do miss her," he said quietly, just loud enough for Fenella to hear over the noise.

"I bet your mother misses you, too," she said, dropping the performance for a moment. "Perhaps you should take some time off and go visit your mum." She handed the pen back.

"Thank you," he mouthed before melting back into the crowd.

"Who's next?" Fenella called out, shaking off the emotional residue.

These authentic glimpses were becoming more frequent, and she wondered if her ability was growing naturally or if the brooch was amplifying it.

"Come on, don't be shy. Only five more nights to discover what your belongings think of you! "

From his corner table, Din caught her eye and raised his glass in a salute.

His laptop was open, and he was supposedly grading final exams from his students, but he couldn't possibly concentrate with all this noise.

His attention never strayed from her for long, those intense eyes of his tracking her movements with a mixture of pride and possession that made her happy and irritated at the same time.

Being a woman was complicated.

On the one hand, Din's possessiveness excited her, heating her blood and making her want him, but on the other hand, she didn't want to be possessed, not even by a male who loved her and would fight dragons for her.

Fenella wasn't a damsel in distress, and she'd been taking care of herself for a long time without Din's help.

Come to think of it, perhaps she'd been lucky rather than unlucky.

If Din had stayed around and they had become a couple fifty years ago, she would have been spared all the misfortunes that she'd endured, but she would have also missed out on the adventures and all the good times she'd had.

She wouldn't have discovered her strength and become so fiercely independent.

In a way, he'd done her a favor by acting like an ass and walking away, because otherwise she wouldn't be the woman she was now.

She blew him an air kiss and mouthed, "I love you."

Din pretended to catch the kiss in his fist, and the grin that spread over his face transformed him from handsome to irresistible. "I love you," he mouthed back.

They'd been saying it a lot, but each exchange still sent a thrill through her. After her resistance had finally cracked and her fear of connection had been conquered, she couldn't imagine a day without telling Din how strongly she felt about him.

"My turn!" A guy pushed forward, holding out his wallet.

Fenella recognized him. Garrett was a Guardian, and he was a shameless flirt. He'd been hitting on her all evening long despite knowing that she was with Din.

"Let's see what secrets your wallet holds," she said, taking the leather billfold. She didn't feel much of anything. Some wallets were like that—too new, too impersonal. But she could work with that.

"Your wallet is having an identity crisis," she announced. "It's practically empty, which makes it question its purpose in life. 'Am I a wallet,' it asks itself, 'or am I just a flat leather decoration?'"

"Hey!" Garrett protested as the crowd laughed. "I have money!"

"Three dollars and an expired coupon for frozen yogurt don't count," Fenella continued. "Your wallet is considering running away to find a Guardian who doesn't spend it all on drinks."

"There is no better way to spend money than on a beautiful bartender..." Garrett leaned over the bar, his smile turning suggestive.

She wanted to tell him that he had been spending money on whiskey, not her, although his tips had been generous, when she saw Din looming behind the Guardian, looking pissed.

Fenella leaned her elbows on the bar and looked into Garrett's smiling eyes. "Your wallet isn't done talking. It just whispered to me that it's desperately in love with my boyfriend's money clip, and they're planning to elope to Vegas." She pursed her lips. "Sorry to disappoint."

The crowd laughed again, but Garrett wasn't done. "Din is a lucky guy, but if you ever want to trade up to a younger model..."

Din put his hand on Garrett's shoulder. "I believe you've had too much to drink. Fenella made her position clear. You should say goodnight and go home."

The entire speech had been delivered in a measured tone, but Fenella knew Din well enough to sense that he was angry. Immortals lived by different standards than humans, and this young Guardian had crossed the line.

Garrett turned, looked up to meet Din's eyes, and seemed to realize his mistake.

Din might be a scholar now, but he had been a warrior in the past, and he'd probably seen more battles in person than Garrett had on the screen.

The promise of violence lurked in his stance, controlled but unmistakable.

"I was just?—"

"Leaving," Din suggested pleasantly. "To work on your manners."

Garrett backed away, hands raised. "I was just teasing. No harm meant."

"None taken," Fenella said brightly. "But your wallet is still disappointed in you!"

As Garrett retreated, Fenella reached for Din's hand. "My hero. Defending my honor from aggressive wallets and their owners."

"Brat," he murmured, but his eyes were warm. "You were handling it just fine. I did it more to teach Garrett a lesson than anything else."

"I enjoyed watching you go all Highlander warrior." She tugged him closer. "Very sexy, Professor."

He leaned down to kiss her, quick but thorough, and the bar erupted in whistles and catcalls.

"Get a room!" someone shouted.

"We have one," Din shot back. "We just haven't made it back there yet."

More laughter.

Fenella pushed him back toward his table. "Go pretend to grade papers. I have thirsty immortals to serve and embarrass."

He squeezed her hand once more before returning to his corner, and Fenella dove back into the performance.

The night flew by in a blur of readings, drinks, and laughter.

She told a wine opener that it was developing a drinking problem, convinced a set of car keys they were suffering from commitment issues because they were always jingling around with other keys, and helped a bookmark confess its secret desire to write a novel.

The brooch seemed to whisper truths to her, and she learned to ride the line between truth and theater, giving people what they came for while honoring what she sensed.

"Last call!" Atzil announced from behind the bar, and groans echoed through the room.

"One more reading!" someone pleaded.

Fenella shook her head. "Not tonight. You'll have to wait until tomorrow. Absence makes the psychometry grow fonder!"

The crowd gradually dispersed, people finishing their drinks and heading for the door. Soon, only a few remained, and then just Din, nursing his whiskey while she helped Atzil clean up.

"Fenella," Atzil called, looking a little nervous, which wasn't like him. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course."

Atzil glanced at Din, who was pretending to be absorbed in his grading project, then back at her. He rubbed a hand over the back of his cropped hair.

"I just wanted to say that you've transformed this place," he said. "I love watching you work."

Fenella felt her throat tighten. "I just tell silly stories."

"You do it so naturally, you don't realize the impact you have on people." He reached under the bar, pulling out a small, wrapped package. "I have something for you. For the trip."

"I'm not leaving until Tuesday, and even that's not a sure thing. We might leave later than that."

"I want you to take it." Atzil handed the package to her. "I don't want it lying around the bar."

Taking the package, Fenella had a moment of panic thinking that it was a parting gift, but then Atzil had given her so many compliments that it didn't make sense for him to fire her.

She unwrapped it carefully, finding inside a beautiful silver flask engraved with Celtic knotwork.

"For emergencies in the desert," Atzil said. "It's insulated to keep liquids either hot or cold."

"Atzil, this is beautiful. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." His voice roughened. "I also wanted to tell you that your job will be here when you return, even if you take a month, a year, or a decade. The Hobbit isn't the same without you."

It was a relief to hear him say that. She needed confirmation that her job would be waiting for her when she came back.

"Fates, I hope it won't be that long." She set down the flask and pulled him into a hug.

Atzil stiffened for a moment—he wasn't a demonstrative male—then returned the embrace.

"I'll miss this place," she said against his shoulder. "I'll miss you."

"Then you'd better come back quickly." He pulled away, clearing his throat. "Now go. Your professor is waiting."

She tucked the flask into her bag, gave the bar one last look, and headed for the back where Din was still pretending to grade papers.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Atzil gave me a beautiful present, and for a moment, I was afraid that it was a parting gift, but he told me to come back quickly."

Din frowned. "We don't know how long it's going to take, so Atzil should not count on you returning to the Hobbit anytime soon."

"He knows that." Fenella took off her apron and tucked it into her bag. "But knowing and hoping are two different things." She slung the strap of her satchel over her shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"Have been ready for a while." Din closed his laptop and slipped it into his messenger bag.

As they started the walk home, he gave her hand a light squeeze. "You were magnificent tonight."

"I'm magnificent every night."

"Yes, you are."

The moon was nearly full, casting everything in silver light as they walked through the village pathways, and except for the distant sounds of night birds and other nocturnal creatures, the night was quiet.

"Are you excited about Egypt?" Din asked.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted. "I've never been there, and Jacki said that it wasn't safe. I'm not really worried because you will be with me, and hopefully, Max will come along, and Ell-rom will be there as well. I just don't want any unnecessary excitement, you know what I mean?"

He nodded. "The market incident has shaken you."

"It did, but more than that was hearing what was prevented by that chance encounter. Life is so fragile, Din, even for immortals, and there are a lot of bad people out there."

"I can't argue with that."

"And you know what's worse?" She turned to look at him.

"What?"

"That it's impossible to tell the bad actors from the good.

That guy in the market looked so mundane.

Just a pudgy human who looked no different than the other people standing in line.

Nothing was menacing about him, nothing to indicate that he was evil, a monster plotting to murder tens of thousands of people. "

Din lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "The Fates intervened and saved all those lives. I am grateful."

"So am I." She leaned against his arm. "But the Fates will not always be there to prevent disasters, and I have zero confidence in humanity. Now, every human I look at is a potential terrorist, a mass murderer. I don't know how to get past it."

He wrapped his arm around her. "I will not let anything happen to you. You can trust in that."

"I know." She reached up to touch his face. "That's what makes it bearable."

"I love you." He kissed her softly.

"I love you," she said when they came apart, the words feeling so natural now that she had gotten accustomed to saying them. "Think anyone's taking bets on whether we'll make it home or just scandalize the neighborhood?"

"We are fortunate that the shutters are down for the night. No nosy neighbors can watch us from behind their curtains."

She pulled him down for another kiss, longer this time, deeper.

"Home," Din said roughly when they parted. "Now. Before I forget that I'm no longer a Highland barbarian."

Her hand flew to her chest in mock horror. "A Highland barbarian?" She let her expression turn teasing. "I would love to meet him, but all I get are empty promises."

"Oh, really?" Din's eyes began glowing. "I wouldn't want to be known as the Highlander who doesn't keep his promises." Moving faster than she could track, he scooped her into his arms and broke into a jog.

Fenella laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm taking you to my lair so I can ravish you in private."